Bring Me to Life!
by Kristine Thorne
Summary: This is a Bad Girls songfic. It is a possible alternative to the end of series five.


Bring Me To Life: A songfic from Yvonne to Karen.   
  
*How can you see in to my eyes, like open doors.*   
  
I'm lying here, calling, crying for someone, anyone to hear me. My energy is slowly ebbing away from me in the same way I suppose the oxygen is. I need you Karen, I need you here, now, to pull me out from the quite literal depths of despair. I can see your face, those eyes that always said so much. I remember when you told me about the plan for the Crhistopher biggins appearance, your eyes were pleading with me to cock it up. Your eyes are a path straight to your soul. Every bit of pain you feel, every spark of anger is reflected in those eyes. I wish they were here now, to see the torment I'm going through, to see what Fenner has finally done to me. If anyone else knew he'd won, they'd probably lose all faith in Atkins the godmother, Atkins the power behind the east London throne, but you wouldn't. Only you know how it is to feel the sharp sting of losing to someone like Fenner. Please Karen, get me out of here! If I focus on the thought of your face long enough, will that make you hear me? Will you feel my need and come to my rescue? A pretty bloody futile thought, I know, but right now, anything's worth a try.   
  
*My spirit's sleeping somewhere cold,   
  
until you find it there and lead it back home.*   
  
Karen, Please! I've never asked anything of you before, but now I'm pleading with you to come and find me. My spirit is gradually slipping away with every breath I take. I need you here, I need you to call my spirit back from its all too certain journey towards the grave. I can't do this on my own, Karen, I need you to help me come back. I'm down here, in a cold, dark cell, and I haven't got much time. Please, wherever you are, even if it's sat in front of the Tv with a large Scotch and a cigarette, hear me and come to me. I can picture you, glass in one hand and fag in the other, the same way you were that day in the pub. Your hand hesitates as it lifts your cigarette for you to take a drag. Why, can you hear me calling for you? Can you feel me crying out for someone to hear me and save me.   
  
*Wake me up inside, wake me up inside.   
  
Call my name and save me from the dark.*   
  
But then you're there, calling my name.   
  
"Yvonne? Yvonne!" I hear you cry. You've found me. I don't know how the hell you've done it, maybe you beat it out of Fenner, stranger things have happened. You've got his keys, and you're opening the door of my very own personal hell. When you open the door, at first you stand there and gape at the tiny space Fenner locked me in, there's a part of you can't believe that even he could do this. Then, you're dragging me out, out in to the cold, dark tunnel. But at your first glance at the situation, I'm dead. I'm not breathing and I have no pulse. but you weren't a nurse for nothing. Not for nothing did you work in a place where your job was to try and save the lives of people in road accidents and those who tried to off themselves. But there isn't much time, you think. There's no time to wait for the paramedics you told Grayling to summon. If you don't do something now, you won't be able to save me from the endless, eternal dark that Fenner condemned me too.   
  
*Bid my blood to run,   
  
before I come undone.   
  
Save me from the nothing I've become.*   
  
I'm flat on my back, and you're leaning above me. My clothes are thrust aside as you seek for the centre of my chest. You're hands jerk my ribcage in to submission. Fifteen times, you press down with the heel of your hands, fifteen times you force my sleeping heart to begin pumping again. Then you're leaning over my face this time. You breathe in to my lungs, trying to persuade my reluctant body to start fighting back. You don't know how I fought to the end, how I called for help, how I scratched my nails in to those walls, as if they would crumble at my touch. But maybe you did hear my cries for help, maybe that's why you're here. You're at my chest again, forcing the air you blew in to my lungs to find its way out, and doing all you can to make my forty-seven-year-old heart start beating again. Will you succeed? I have no idea. Just knowing you're here, that makes me relax. I feel as if I'm looking down on myself. You're alternating between encouraging my lungs to breathe and compressing my chest. Why are you here? Why did you come at my eleventh hour and fifty ninth minute to save me.   
  
*Breathe in to me and make me real,   
  
bring me to life!*   
  
You carry on this simple but life-saving sequence for longer than I would have thought possible. The sweat is running down your face and your arms are trembling from the exertion, but you never stop. But eventually, your hard work pays off. When you can finally feel a faint pulse in my neck, you resume my breathing for me. And when I finally gasp, you sit back and begin crying.   
  
"Yvonne," You call, "come on, Yvonne, wake up and talk to me." You turn me on my side as I begin coughing, as if trying to expell all the rotten air I breathed in that coffin-like cell. Instead of laying my head on the cold, stone floor, you support it on your knees. I open my eyes to see your wide eyes looking down at me. They speak clearly to me, those eyes. They're asking me how the hell I ended up here. You want to know all, and you will, but only when I have the strength to tell you. The top of my head is nestled against your stomach, and I can feel your whole body trembling. I can't believe I'm here. You've pulled me literally from the brink of death, and you're gripping my right shoulder just as if I would slip away from you any minute.   
  
*Now that I know what I'm without,   
  
you can't just leave me.*   
  
My voice cracks when I speak.   
  
"Please, don't leave me," I manage to say, not caring how pathetic it might sound. I feel something warm on my face. Looking up, I can see it's one of your tears.   
  
"I'm not going anywhere," You say. "I promise." You keep your promise, all the time I'm taken to hospital you're there. Not once did you let go of my hand. Even when I'm attached to all kinds of bloody monitors, you're there right beside me. And when I'm finally allowed to go to sleep, and I dream of the constricting feeling of having no air to breathe, you're there, with soft arms and an even softer voice, telling me that they've got Fenner, that never again will he be able to lock me in that tiny hangman's cell. You did this, you breathed in to me and made me real. You brought me to life, the way I begged you too. You answered my plea and gave me back the chance to live, to love, and to care for my girls, Lauren and Denny. I don't think you know it, but you also gave me back the chance to be there for you, to help you nail Fenner, to give you back the life you once loved. You brought me to life, back in that cold, dark tunnel, and if by helping you to nail Fenner I can give you back your life, you might think we're quits. But never will I forget what you did for me. An Atkins pays her debts, and I can't even begin to estimate what I owe you for bringing me to life. I just hope you stay long enough for me to begin to do that. Thank you for hearing my call, thank you for saving my life, and most of all, thank you for staying with me during those first few hours of tortured sleep. Any barrier I might once have maintained between us is gone, because never again can there be an "Us and them" with you. We are equal, whole, all because you saved me from the nothing I'd become. 


End file.
